The Dublin Anniversary
by livingonakiwi
Summary: A three-chapter, very short fanficion. Cute/happy Stendan. Brendan surprises Ste on their one-year-anniversary since the day they got back together on the Ha'Penny Bridge. Rated K.
1. Chapter 1

The Dublin Anniversary

Happy Stendan. Brendan surprises Ste on their one-year-anniversary since the day they got back together on the Ha'Penny Bridge.

Chapter 1: A Year in an Instant

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**Brendan's POV:**

One year, seems like a long time, doesn't it? Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days. Truth is, it's gone in an instant and we don't even realise it. Today marks the day of my first year - my first _proper_ year - with Stephen.

One year and it still feels like the first when I wake up to him beside me. Long lashes splayed on soft complexion, and bronze limbs tangled with my own pale-Irishness.

Every night is like the fair Dublin city all over again: we fall asleep separated and find our way to each other in the night, our bodies like pieces of a puzzle that mould into place in the dark. All the cracks and cuts pulled closed as we rest at peace. Arguments are forgotten as I feel his radiance around me, encompassing me.

I place a soft kiss on his forehead and he stirs, a smile forming on those deep, rose-petal lips.

He's beautiful, is my Stephen. Stubborn as an ass, but beautiful. All bronze, all warm, all loving. Waking up with him in a morning makes it worth the occasional pain of love; the breathlessness; straining, heaving heart, heavy with regret and relief.

I'm past the point of caring about prying eyes where the public are concerned. I kissed him in the street without realising, and I forgot to check for reactions from the people around us. I realised then that this is for real, what he does to me is real; what he _is_ to me is real. I need him like a lifeline.

"Bren..." Stephen stretches his arms above his head and rolls on to his back, space between him and I increasing; I feel cold. He pulls his left arm down and lays it on his chest, abover his heart.

"Mornin'" I respond, and stroke the back of his hand. His breathing is relaxed and light, barely audible.

Mornings are bliss when it's just Stephen and I; his breathing and mine; the rising and falling of his chest a soothing sensation against me.

The arm I have rested behind his neck is pulled free as I go to sit up and gather my clothes for the day.

"No..." He whimpers and grabs my wrist.

"Stephen, I have work."

His breathing halts for barely a second but I recognise it, a sort of agony, a rejection, that spreads like wildfire through the heart.

"Oh." It's plastered on his face now, the pain.

Reluctantly, I step up off the bed. Boxers now on, I slip my suit-trousers over my legs, and tighten them at the hips. I pull a new shirt from a hanger in the wardrobe and tug it over my broad shoulders and tight, muscular arms, buttoning it up until it reaches the place where my cross falls. I do it all with my back to him because I can't bear to see him, not like that.

Most mornings were the same, but never repetitive. Goading hands begging me to come back to bed. A grab at the wrist asking me to stay, to never leave. Followed by the apology, "I'm sorry, Stephen. I have work, I have to go."

Then the sulk, the pouting of the lips. It reminds him of all those times a few years ago, I suppose; reminds him of the old me. Fresh rejection gnawing at older scars, and I can't bear to see him break from the memories, and I relent.

Almost every morning I am three-quarters-of-an-hour late, and from the haphazard, tousle of my hair and pulled down zipper, everyone knows why. Stephen and I are the towns sex-crazed gays. I don't purposefully flash it around, my love life, but people can shove their homophobia up their arses. I'm done with being scared, because Stephen needs me to be strong; for us.

I don't look at him whilst changing because I can't stay, I have to leave. I have _work_ to do.

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**Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. **


	2. Chapter 2

The Dublin Anniversary

Brendan surprises Ste on their one-year-anniversary since the day they got back together on the Ha'Penny Bridge.

Chapter 2: Paninis and Anger

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First of all, I would like to apologise for how long it has taken me to write this chapter. I've had to overcome a bout of writer's block to make this, so sorry if it seems a little wooden and forced. I apologise and hopefully you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.

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**Ste's POV:**

Lifting myself up on my elbows, I surveyed the room. Nothing appeared to have changed in the night. All of Brendan's stuff was in its place, minus the blazer he'd thrown over his shoulder before he'd left without so much as a goodbye kiss on the temple, or a quick toss-off beneath the sheets. His behaviour had baffled me, to say the least, and it left me with an edge of doubt and suspicion in my mind.

As I heard the familiar slamming of the front door, I slumped back down into the pillows. What was wrong with Brendan? I couldn't think of any obvious reason why he'd been so irrationally cold this morning. We'd be fine the past few days, more than fine in fact. So why had he been so distant? It wasn't like Brendan to forgo a morning wake-up ritual, even if he was late to work. The intimacy our our relationship was one area where we never failed.

Maybe it was me. Had I done something wrong? After a few minutes of racking my brain for an answer to the impossible question of "What is wrong with Brendan Brady," and figuring that I wouldn't even approach the entrance gates to a solution if I was Brendan Brady himself, I managed to pull my discouraged body out of bed and stretched out a long yawn as I made my way to the bathroom.

As I stepped into the shower, feeling the warm water running down the smooth, tan plains of my body, I still couldn't get the mix-tape of Brendan out of my mind. I reached up to rub the muscle of my shoulder, trying to get myself to relax, but still nothing but tension in my aching limbs.

"I have work, I have to go." I imagined his face as he said it in the back of my mind. His eyes showing no hint of affection. Perhaps that's why he didn't want to turn around, why he didn't want to face me. He didn't want me to see the lack of wanting in his eyes. Did Brendan not want me anymore?

Impossible. Brendan loved me. I was being completely stupid, totally irrational. I was makings things up in my mind to deal with his rejection. But it was rejection, it was evident. He brushed me off when I stroked his wrist. He got dressed with his back turned to me and left without a goodbye. It was like he'd done it to hurt me, like he knew what it would do to me. The water washing over my body felt like thick droplets of trickling blood as the wounds he's created three-and-a-half years ago began to peel open, disappointment and vulnerability snaking its way back into my blood stream.

I sighed, feeling the water begin to turn cold, and washed my hair abruptly before scrubbing my skin vigorously with Brendan's shower gel. I stepped out of the shower, the bitter breeze of the wind on the liquid droplets on my skin causing the hairs on my arm to stand. Feeling the fine stubble on my cheeks, I shaved quickly before making my way back to the bedroom to get dressed for work, a towel wrapped loosely around my waist.

I threw on my cream chinos and my blue shirt and inspected myself in the mirror. The false smile on my lips didn't feel right so I wiped it off and reached for the styling gel on the side. After slicking up my hair into its usual style, I grabbed my phone and keys from the side and pulled my jacket over my arms, slamming the door behind me as I left.

The walk to the deli was uneventful and the weather was murky. There was snow on the forecast, but whilst the air was cold, it wasn't quite frosty. I received a call from Doug, which I had let ring a few times before declining. He was probably calling to ask where I was. Checking the time, I realised I was over half an hour late, but it didn't make me move any faster. I trundled along at my own speed, kicking stone on the pavement.

I was being stupid, I knew that, sulking because Brendan didn't want to have sex this morning, or at least that was what I would have looked like to other people if they'd have asked what was wrong. To me, it was more than that. It was a connection that we lacked this morning, more so than the physical separation, it was an emotional impairment. I felt as though Brendan had untangled himself from me. After everything we'd been through the past year, it didn't feel right. What hurt the most was that he'd forgotten it was our one year anniversary.

I let a tear slide down my blushing cheek as I turned to open the door to the deli. The bell rung ostentatiously, signifying my arrival. There were already a few customers in, not enough for Doug to call me for backup. That was rarely the case though, especially in the winter.

Doug glared at me as I slipped off my coat, hanging it on the coat hook in the back, and tied my apron lazily. He uttered a polite goodbye to the customers and watched as they left. When the coast was clear he approached me.

"Nice of you to make a surprise appearance," he mocked.

"Oh don't start, will ya." I should have known today would be a tough time for Doug too. It was mine and Brendan's first year together, a mile-stone our marriage had never reached. I didn't care much for the added tension that his mood brought to the room. If anything, it angered me.

I brushed past him abrasively, and dropped down into the sofa by the window. After a moment of silence, Doug was the first one to speak.

"Sorry," he spoke softly. "Is everything alright?"

"Why wun't it be?" I asked defensively.

Doug pondered for a moment on whether to continue, rocking on his heels a little. He eventually decided to settle himself next to me in the sofa.

"Is it Brendan?" He questioned, leaning his elbows on his bent knees. He looked up at me.

"You don't need to sound so smug."

"I'm not! I just… come on, Ste. Just talk to me. If there's something wrong, it's better to let it out. Especially before I let you loose on chopping them carrots over there." He let out a small laugh. If I wasn't in such a bad mood I might have pity smiled at his feeble attempt at a joke. I internally thanked him though. At least he was making an effort.

"Brendan forgot our anniversary." I turned my face away from him. I couldn't bear to see the look of 'I told you so' on his face. I held my breath, waiting for an eruption of laughter, but it never came. When I looked back, Doug had a serious look on his face.

"Ste, you're in love with Brendan Brady. You know what that means, don't you?"

I shrugged. Doug sighed.

"Aren't you supposed to know him better than he knows himself? Ste, Brendan is impulsive and psychotic. He's never going to be the kind of guy who writes down the date of his anniversary on a calendar on the kitchen fridge. It's Brendan Brady, Ste. I'm pretty sure the whole idea of dating Brendan spells out, 'danger. Uncaring and emotional incapable man'." Doug laughed again at his own joke.

"He's not emotionally incapable!" I defend. "You dun't even know 'im like I do. You an't seen him like I have, when we're alone. Brendan might not seem the type, but he's about more than just the physical, you know. He's… he's protective, and caring, and loving. Other people don't see it 'cause he dun't let them. Can't have his barriers broken."

"Seen as you're so sure about Brendan, are you sure he forgot?" Doug looked down at his hands which he had clasped tightly together on his knees still.

"He din't even look at me this morning before he left. When I tried to touch 'im, he just brushed me off, told me had work to do. He weren't himself, Doug. Ususally, he's dead up for it." I saw Doug cringe in the corner of my eye. I issued a mental apology. "I thought, it bein' our anniversary and everything, things might even be better than normal, but nothin'." I sighed heavily.

"There's still the rest of the day yet though," Doug gave a weak smile and stood up, moving to the counter and picking up a knife, beginning to wash it under the running water of the tap.

"Yeh, yeh I suppose." If I was honest, I still felt disheartened. Brendan Brady didn't do massive romantic gestures, I knew that. He wouldn't come home with a massive teddy bear and flowers, or chocolates. He'd come home and kiss my neck suggestively and pull me into his lap.

I joined Doug at the counter, and took the knife gently out of hands, drying it with a towel I pulled out from one of the drawers.

"I'll start on these carrots then, shall I?" The smile I'd practised this morning didn't feel as fake. I was at home in the kitchen, with or without Brendan. I enjoyed my job and I'd be damned if my idiot boyfriend was going to get in the way again.

"Ste?" Doug chirped up as he was wiping down the glass display.

"Mmmm?" I replied, focusing all my energy on keeping the knife at a straight angle away from my fingers. The last thing I wanted to do on my anniversary, other than work, was lose an extremity.

"I'm sure everything will be fine with you and Brendan." His words seemed sincere, which had shocked me a little.

It had taken a while for us to overcome the strain our divorce had put on both our personal and our working lives. As much as Doug and I had tried to remain professional at all times, especially in front of the customers, it had been a very difficult environment to stay in. Being cooped up in a tiny kitchen space with your ex-husband wasn't the most ideal situation for the hours of nine 'till five, but it was a job, and it was money. It had to be done.

Eventually though, I had seen a shift in Doug's resentful manner. He seemed more at peace with me. He would no longer avoid the kitchen if I was standing there, or move past me awkwardly if we were behind the counter. He brushed past as normal like it was supposed to be, like we were business partners again.

It became easier when Doug decided it was finally okay for him to move on or, as Brendan had put it, "stop moping over what he could never have." Doug had told me before the divorce that he hadn't regretted the marriage, just the fact that I didn't stop it when I knew I still had feelings for Brendan more so than him. He blamed me for the huge chunk of his life that he was missing, the time that he could have spent searching for someone who could wholly reciprocate his feelings, searching for the person that obviously wasn't me.

But, as we handed the papers over to the solicitor, he'd turned to me and admitted that he was "sort of thankful" for everything. "A mistake made is a lesson learned." It was still a little scornful, but I could sense that we were on the right track.

Despite Doug and I finally filing for divorce, our mending friendship didn't make the rivalry between Doug and Brendan any easier. Brendan regularly accused Doug of making "lusting puppy-dog eyes" at me, which seemed completely laughable because barely two weeks after the divorce came through Doug had jumped into bed with that John-Paul McQueen kid. It seems like he was on my track to pick up all of my exes.

Every time I saw him he still managed to make my skin crawl, anger heating up my cheeks. He'd walked into the Deli a few weeks ago, looking for Doug supposedly. Brendan had been standing behind me, nuzzling his face into my neck, with one arm wrapped around my waist, the other sliding down the front of my trousers. I looked up to find John-Paul there, staring at us, a smug grin plastered on his face as Brendan pulled his hand out of my trousers and rested on my hip bone, resting his chin on my shoulder.

I was half in my right mind to slap him with the Panini I had in my hand, but Brendan had told me not to be fickle as I raised it up to shoulder height, armed to throw. He kissed the soft spot behind my ear, took a bite of the half prepared Panini and winked at me as he left. What angered me most was that Brendan had buggered off to the club for the rest of the day and didn't come back to finish what he'd started. John-Paul had left soon after I threw some coffee and water into a cup for him and 'accidentally' spilled it down the front of his trousers.

"Thanks Doug," I replied half-heartedly. I still couldn't help but be a little upset. It was momentous, wasn't it? The last relationship Brendan has been in for this long was with Eileen, but that was only because she had his children. It was something special because I was supposed to be the one who helped Brendan Brady get his life back on track, and I didn't even get so much as a thank you card.

I tried to push the thoughts of Brendan out of my mind as I set to work on baking the pastries for the lunch time spread but I couldn't help but wonder if Brendan was at the club, just sitting there, doing paper work or some boring thing that _could_ have been left for tomorrow. Or maybe he was just sleeping. He did that a lot when he was bored, sleep. It was something I'd experienced first-hand: at the club, at home, at the dinner table when Chez had invited Doug and John-Paul over for dinner one night. He might have been an unthoughtful, uncontrollable brute, but he was my brute, and I couldn't bring myself to hate him.

I audibly groaned, placing the knife on on the counter. Doug looked up at me with a frown on his face. He came to stand by me, throwing his arm over my hunched shoulders.

"It's okay, Ste. Why don't you have the day off? I can manage here," he urged.

"Not bein' funny, Doug, right, but you wudn't be able make a pastry if Gordon Ramsey were next to you."

Doug took his arm from my shoulder and chuckled, "Only because I'd be nervous, and he'd be shouting at me all the time!"

"He'd be shouting 'cause you can't make a pastry! And because you'd probably piss yourself," I laughed back.

"He's terrifying, Ste!"

"Ay, remember that episode of Hell's Kitchen we watched, when he punched that beef 'cause it were still raw?" We both broke out into a fit of laughter. I leant my hands on the counter, and sighed, trying to calm myself.

"You do still love him, don't you?" Doug asked.

"What? After he punched that beef. I don't think so, the poor meat hadn't done nowt." We shared a small smile.

"Not Gordon Ramsey, Ste."

"I know," I inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly, hands still gripping the counter. "Course I still love 'im. I'll always love 'im. It's just difficult somedays."

"No one ever said that being in love with Brendan Brady was going to be easy, Ste."

"Yeh." I leaned my head on my hands and groaned.

"You could always go and talk to him. He's…" Doug started, and quickly shut his mouth.

"He's what?"

Doug stumbled on his words, staring out the window.

"What's so fascinatin'?" I went to turn around to face the window but Doug spun me back to face the kitchen and pulled me into a tight hug. "Doug, what the hell?" I exclaimed.

"You just… um…" Doug stuttered. "You just looked like you needed a hug." He stayed with his arms around me for longer than normal.

"Doug, you can let go now," I offered, but his arms stayed wrapped around me. "Doug, is everything all…" Suddenly, he let go.

"Everything's fine. Just hugging it out, you know. Overcoming the awkwardness once and for all. There's nothing go on outside." He walked quickly to the kitchen. When I turned around to look out of the window Doug was right, there was nothing going on outside. Yet, as I glanced across the landscape of the village yard, I could have sworn I saw the tail-lights of Brendan's BMW speeding round the corner, heading into town.

I shook my head and massaged my temples, making my way back to the counter to finish preparing the food. All I knew is that my day was getting progressively weirder.

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**Thank you for reading.**

**I have made a few changes to the plot of the story, which means there will be more than the three chapters I originally planned. The next chapter will be up ASAP. Feel free to review, any comments are appreciated.**


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